I swear I’ve been flying above the clouds for days now.
I’m starting to wonder if I’ll ever get tired of him, but every day I wake up next to him, it makes me want him more.
We’ve been discreet since Sam came home from his dad’s. I set an alarm every night in case I fall asleep, then sneak back over to my room before the sun—and my kid—rises.
“Good morning,” I tell him as he pads out of his bedroom in his work pants and unbuttoned flannel that shows off a white shirt clinging to the muscles I’ve raked my fingers over so many times I’ve lost count. I set a fresh plate of pancakes on the counter, knowing he loves them. “You’re just in time.”
“What’s all this for?” he asks, dropping down onto a stool.
“I wanted pancakes,” Sam says through a full mouth.
Nolan’s eyes find mine. Is that why you left so early? they ask.
Yes, mine answer.
“Well, good call, Sam. I love pancakes.”
“That’s what Mom said too.” He shovels another forkful of fluffy goodness into his gob. “And you’re lucky she makes the best ones ever.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
He slathers butter on the perfectly round and golden cakes, then pours a generous amount of syrup on them and takes a bite.
I feel I’ve recently become an expert on what Nolan finds pleasurable, and I can tell right away he loves my pancakes.
“Well?” Sam asks, watching him closely.
“Not bad.”
“Not bad?! They’re way better than the place my dad takes me, and that’s at, like, a restaurant. That’s gotta mean something.”
“Not true. Restaurants can suck at cooking too.”
“Yeah, like the diner my dad always goes to. Their food is so…blech.” He sticks his tongue out, shaking his head. “Dad has awful taste.”
“Hey! That is a direct insult to me, the woman he used to date.”
He shrugs. “I’m just stating facts, Mom.”
“Nolan’s right. You are a shithead.” I toss a hand towel at him.
“Hey! Not in the pancakes, lady!”
“Don’t call me lady. And go finish getting ready for school.”
“Do I have to go?”
“Yes. It’s illegal if you don’t, and I really don’t feel like going to jail.”
“Why can’t you live a little and break the law, Mom?”
“Yeah, Mom,” Nolan teases. “Live a little, huh?”
I point a finger at him. “I’ll send your ass to school right along with him.” I look at Sam. “Go brush your teeth.”
With a sigh, he pushes his empty plate across the counter. “Fine—but only because I’m looking forward to chicken nugget day at lunch.”
I shake my head as he slinks out of the kitchen. “Remind me again why I had a kid?”
“Because the condom broke?”
I laugh. “Fuck condoms.”
“I agree.” Heat blazes in his eyes, and I bet he’s thinking about the same thing I am.
How just an hour ago I was snuggled in his bed after a long night of us trying our hardest to be quiet during sex where we definitely did not use a condom.
“Speaking of…” He leans across the counter and I match his movements, dragging my tongue along my bottom lip as he stares at me like he wants to kiss me senseless.
“Hey, Nolan?” Sam says, shuffling down the hall.
We jump apart like we’ve been doing something we shouldn’t be.
And really, we shouldn’t be.
We’ve done a good job of keeping this hidden from Sam, and we need to continue doing so. He doesn’t need to see us together, thinking this is something it’s not—something permanent.
“I was wondering,” he continues, popping around the corner, “I’m having a talent show at school in a couple of weeks. Dean’s teaching me how to play the guitar. You’re coming, right?”
“Talent show, huh?” He runs his hand over his chin, pretending to think. I’ve noticed he’s been keeping the growth on his face for a few days before shaving it off, and I suspect it has everything to do with me and how much I like it. “Depends on what song Dean is teaching you. He has awful taste in music.”
“He keeps trying to make me sing Bob Slinger songs, and I hate them.”
I tuck my lips together, trying not to laugh. “Bob Seger, not Slinger.”
“Whatever.” He shrugs. “I just know I don’t like it. Can you teach me a different song?”
“Well, I don’t know how to play guitar, except for on the PlayStation, but tell Dean to teach you a song by Foo Fighters or I’m going to tell River